


Home of Mirrors

by Meatball42



Series: Torchwood Oneshots [11]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Adultery, Cunnilingus, Episode: s02e11 Adrift, F/M, Frottage, I don't think this counts as dubcon, M/M, Multi, Naked Hide and Seek, OT3, Retcon (Torchwood), Rimming, Sexy flashbacks, The Hub was made for sex, Voyeurism, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 18:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/pseuds/Meatball42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Most of the time, Ianto feels a mix of friendship, awkwardness, and jealousy around Gwen. Sometimes, the times he doesn’t remember, he loves her.’ An unusual kind of affair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home of Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for chamilet on livejournal, for Torchwood-fest. Thanks to mm8 for the smooth beta :)

"Always room for one more," he says cockily. Yeah, it’s a diversion, from Gwen's relentless pressing, from Ianto's heavily-blushing cheeks.

That doesn't mean it isn't true.

“We could’ve used you an hour ago for naked hide and seek.”

“He cheats, he always cheats,” Ianto says. Jack knows his lover always blurts the first vaguely-appropriate thing that comes into his mind when he’s flustered, and he’ll be so embarrassed about saying this, later.

If he remembers, that is.

Jack feels a tug of annoyance in his chest. Gwen stared for a good few seconds when she walked in on them, before realizing what she was doing and rushing out. Ianto, shy as he is, ran after her before he’d even got his shirt on. And here they are on the catwalk, darting shy glances at each other that are masked as embarrassment. Gwen even looks jealous at the idea of them playing naked hide and seek! He wonders how many times they’ll have to play this game before the two of them will give in.

“Was there something you wanted?” he asks, giving her a chance to be honest.

That steely glare comes into her eyes. “Jonah Bevan.”

Jack’s sure that’s what she came here for, but it’s not what she wants now; it’s not what any of them want, and it’s a waste of their time. “No,” he interrupts before she can even ask. “Work hours are over, Gwen.”

Her gaze flickers over Ianto’s chest before returning to Jack. She sets her jaw stubbornly. “Fine.” She turns to leave, and Ianto lets out a sigh that he probably thinks is relief.

Jack knows better.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he says loudly.

She spins around, and ooh, he loves how the authoritative voice gets her all riled up. “What?” she snaps, defensive and angry and tense, though she refuses to acknowledge why.

Jack smiles at her, wide and lazy. “Like I said: always room for one more.”

Ianto stiffens so quickly it’s almost a flinch. His clothes give a single shimmy with the movement, drawing Gwen’s attention, and her eyes cast over his body once again. She’s already shaking her head. “Go to hell, Jack.”

“I’m dead serious,” he replies. He pulls his pocket watch from his trousers where he’d shoved it an hour ago and examines the face. “I’ll give you… six minutes.”

Ianto starts running before he even hears the time, one hand on the banister to propel him around the corner. He says “Go!” when Gwen just stands and stares and drags her along by the elbow until she moves herself.

Jack lets his unbuttoned dress shirt slide down his arms and to the floor.

This is going to be a good night.

[*]

Gwen’s asking questions, sounding annoyed and awkward, but Ianto can’t focus on that. He’s trying to remember, forcing his brain to acknowledge the flashes of memory that it wants to turn away from, like there’s a perception filter inside his head. Ianto’s never felt this way before- that he can remember, he acknowledges ironically- but he has someone who did.

“Gwen,” he interrupts her ramble, grabbing her upper arms and pulling her to a stop at an intersection of two archive corridors. “What did it feel like, when you broke the Retcon?”

“What’s going on, why are we running?”

“Tell me!” he insists, and whether it’s his hands tightening on her arms or the strain in his rasping voice she looks at him and suddenly understands that this isn’t a game.

“Like…” She looks up, trying to remember. “Like it was a dream… like there was a wall or mist, and the memories had to tear through.”

“Before, that, when you just had hints. Before you knew.”

“Déjà vu,” she whispers, and frowns, eyes wide with anxiety. “Why…?”

Ianto stares at her face and- _her eyes are even wider, her head thrown back, gasping for breath_ -and then it’s gone.

“Come on,” he says, and pulls her further down the corridor. Down another flight of stairs- _carrying a tray of coffees down the spiral staircase in the Hub while Jack pins Gwen to the window of his office and she keens_ \- and around a corner, then another tight turn and to the invisible line in the wall with a slight notch. Ianto digs his first two fingers into the ridge and pushes, straining, and the door slides open soundlessly.

“Inside,” he whispers, more aware than ever of the echoes in the corridors. He shoves Gwen into the space and steps in after her, sliding the door closed until he hears the tiny click.

“Ianto, what are we doing in here, what the hell-?”

“Quiet!” he orders, and she must be able to feel his heart beating double time where she’s pressed up against him in this closet that’s barely big enough for two, because she becomes very still.

He listens hard for several long seconds, but can only hear his own breath and hers.

“I think we’ve been Retconned,” he whispers, then looks at her.

There’s light in this room, although there is no light source. There’s always light in the lower levels of the Hub, as though the walls themselves emit some form of it or allow it to travel far longer than it should. It’s not enough for much detail, but Ianto can see her eyes widen and the glint of her lipstick as her jaw drops.

“How?”

He doesn’t want it to be true, but there’s no other explanation. “Jack.”

She shakes her head. “He wouldn’t.”

_“No, I won’t,” she says firmly, but Jack smiles predatorily and Ianto knows she will._

“Ianto? Ianto!”

“Shh!” There’s a sound in the corridor and Ianto’s heart starts pounding again.

“Are you-”

He grabs her neck and kisses her.

She freezes, just as Jack’s near-silent footfall sounds a few feet away, audible through the door of their hide-away. Ianto tries to place Jack exactly in the corridor, but Gwen’s plump, soft lips are trembling against his and he can feel her breath on his upper lip and-

_He moves inside her, long, smooth strokes, aimed where she’ll enjoy it most, and nuzzles her neck. Kisses and moans and heavy, straining breaths become the soundtrack to their lovemaking. He thrusts a bit harder and she gasps, muffled, into Jack’s mouth, one hand twisting in Ianto’s white bedspread._

-her whole body pressed against his all of a sudden, shaking with the effort of remaining still, hand sinking into his hair to hold him right there-

 _His hands tighten in Jack’s hair as the door of the tourist office closes behind the pair of Germans, and Jack’s tongue, which has been teasing him for the last five minutes, presses flat against the underside of his cock. Ianto glares down at Jack’s unrepentant eyes and jerks his head forward. Ten seconds later Ianto comes, and as he gasps into the dusty air the passage to the Hub opens and Gwen appears and her eyes flash and_ -

“I remember,” she says, so quiet that if they weren’t atoms apart it would’ve been impossible to hear her, and Jack might be right outside but this, right now, he needs to-

[*]

Jack settles into his desk chair with a cold beer and calls up the CCTV of Ianto’s Secret Archives Hubby-Hole Number Four. Ianto does well for an amateur, but the Hub has been Jack’s domain for over a century, and he knows all the secret spots.

It takes a few moments for the window to open and Jack takes a swig of his beer, which he nearly chokes on when the video pops up. He slams the bottle on the desk and tears off his underwear, which he’d kept on in deference to the chill of the archives.

Jack’s not worried about the cold anymore.

He scrabbles in the drawer for lube with one hand and turns up the screen brightness with the other, messing with the night-vision settings until he can see his employees nearly as clear as day, though only in shades of green. Then he sits back and enjoys.

Ianto’s shirt and Gwen’s jacket have been discarded and Gwen’s hair thoroughly mussed. Her shirt is nearly off, but she’s got Ianto pressed against the wall with one hand in his pants. As Jack watches, Ianto grabs her by the hips and spins her around, slamming her into the wall, and she lets out a gasp.

Oh yeah, those microphones were worth _all_ the trouble.

Jack slicks his hand and starts working himself slowly, watching Ianto kiss Gwen dirty and wet, the smacking sounds and heavy breathing filling his office from their hideout two floors below. Gwen’s hands grip Ianto’s head to kiss him deeper and he does something with his hands that makes her squeak.

Jack fumbles his dry hand to change the angle on the camera so he can see what’s going on. One of Ianto’s hands is wrapped around Gwen’s back, holding her opposite waist while the other moves rhythmically in her pants. Gwen’s hands drop to Ianto’s shoulders and dig in and she gasps in his face, “Ianto, harder!”

Jack squeezes himself harder at that and tries to keep from speeding up. He knows Ianto can be unpredictable, and sure enough, the Welshman removes his hand from Gwen’s pants to her dissatisfied moan.

“Quiet,” Ianto tells her, his voice low and rumbling as it gets when he’s turned on. “Jack could be nearby.”

With his hairs already on end just from Ianto’s voice, the warning makes Jack shiver. Then he lets out a noise that would definitely have gotten him scolded if he were the one hiding when Ianto raises two shiny fingers to Gwen’s lips in a shushing gesture.

He brushes her lips with his fingers and Jack scrambles to zoom in. He can’t see them anymore, but Jack can imagine how Ianto’s eyes look right now: flinty and commanding and undeniable as Gwen stares up at him in shock, mouth dropped open enough that Ianto could just shove his fingers inside, but he won’t. He gently hooks Gwen’s bottom lip and drags it down slightly, then she lets her jaw slip just a bit wider and Ianto inches his fingers inside.

Jack’s hand flies wildly over his rigid erection and he’s holding his breath as though to make a noise would disturb the distant scene. _‘Gods, this is better than porn,’_ he thinks, because he can imagine Gwen smiling at him from across his office and he knows she’d be outraged if she could see him now. Because it’s not some random person who’s letting their eyes drift shut and dragging their tongue over Ianto’s fingers, it’s _Gwen_.

Apparently, Ianto has the same thoughts as Jack. There’s a tormented groan and he’s hefting Gwen up by the hips until she wraps her legs around him and pressing her back against the wall. As though they’ve practiced, she raises her arms just as he goes to tear her blouse off.

Ianto unclips Gwen’s bra, and although he’s seen it before Jack can’t hold back a moan at the sight of _his_ Ianto teasing Gwen’s breasts. He doesn’t know if it’s the starved look Ianto always gets, like he’s been waiting so long to touch a woman again, or Gwen’s reaction. Sure enough, her legs tighten around Ianto’s hips, those gorgeous eyes of hers get so wide and that sound comes from the back of her throat- too deep and sharp to be a gasp, not quiet loud enough to be a cry- and she grabs Ianto selfishly and moans at him for more.

From then it’s a rough, fast mess. Ianto has the leverage to grind them together, and Jack imagines that the friction of Gwen’s jeans must be intense, from the way they’re reacting. Ianto’s face is buried in Gwen’s neck, her breath is speeding up and her hips move even more forcefully against Ianto’s. When Ianto’s thrusts become frenzied and he pointlessly tries to muffle his moan, she lets out a high, anxious sound of denial.

Jack’s other hand is tugging on his balls, trying to hold back his climax. He’s forced himself to slow down, about to go off early from the sounds and sights of his lovers. He moves his slick hand slowly, a holding pattern, while Gwen slips down to the floor and Ianto steadies himself.

“Guess Jack wasn’t here after all,” he says, voice wobbly with his orgasm.

Gwen’s smile lasts for less than a second, her hands wrapping around his neck. “Ianto, plea-”

Her mouth opens under Ianto’s as she pressed back against the wall and she bucks wildly when his hand, pressed against the seam of her trousers, starts rubbing just where she wants it. She throws her head back and doesn’t bother to quiet herself as she reaches up, and up, and up. “Oh, Ianto, yes, _yes,_ oh, faster, Ianto-Oh!”

Gasping as he draws out his own climax at last, Jack fancies he can hear Gwen’s shout from outside of his office as well as from the speakers. His eyes don’t leave her face, slack and open with pleasure, as he comes, not until her head drops forwards against Ianto’s shoulder and Jack slumps back into his chair.

They all remain silent for long seconds, heaving breaths the only sounds in the closet or Jack’s office. Jack stares at his ceiling dreamily and grins.

“You think he heard that?” Gwen asks.

Jack peels his eyes open to look at the screen. Gwen isn’t nervous, in fact she sounded catty and devious. _‘She must have remembered…’_ he thinks.

“I doubt he’d miss it,” Ianto answers, the same amusement in his voice. “He’s probably waiting.”

“Let’s not disappoint him, then.”

[*]

This is more than déjà vu, it’s déjà vu to the power of… Ianto tries to count how many times they’ve done this, but he can’t remember. He can see himself and Jack and Gwen in any number of configurations, starting after she’d been saved from being run over by a ghost and continuing during Jack’s disappearance, through Gwen’s wedding and up to the current day. _‘And every time we chose to forget…’_ he thinks.

He pauses before ascending to the Hub, and from the look in her eyes Gwen is equally disconcerted.

“This is so strange,” she says, gaze flickering from his eyes to his hair to his lips, like she’s trying to reconcile her memories with what she sees in front of her. “An hour ago, I’d never cheated on my husband. But now I know that I have, so many times.”

“I’m sorry,” Ianto says honestly. There’s a dislocation in his thoughts, where, under the influence of the Retcon, he’d feel awkward right now, but he remembers so many conversations with Gwen, discussing Rhys and Lisa and Jack and _everything,_ and he can’t be awkward with her. “I know how you feel.”

She smiles, though there are still things moving in her eyes, haunting things. “You do,” she says, as though affirming it to him. She speaks like that all the time, and he usually thinks it’s too sweet or even fake, but now he _knows_ her, and it’s true: she really is that… honest.

They’re kissing again, before he knows how, but it isn’t frenzied like they were in the closet. It’s gentle and deep and familiar, like long-time lovers who know that the other isn’t going anywhere. Then Jack makes something clatter up in the main Hub, and they stare into each other’s eyes.

“I don’t want…” he begins, but she shushes him.

“That’s for later.”

Upstairs, Jack is spread out on the couch, wearing nothing but a cat-that-got-the-cream smile. “You two have a good time down there?”

“No, thanks to you,” Gwen scolds. “We thought you’d Retconned us!”

“I have,” Jack says matter-of-factly.

“Without our consent,” Gwen stresses, bending over in front of the couch. Jack leans up and they meet for a kiss that starts off as a touch and ends with Jack sitting up on the couch while Gwen straddles his lap. Ianto feels awkward for a moment, because he doesn’t want to interrupt the gorgeous view, but he also doesn’t want to be standing in the middle of the Hub.

Jack breaks off the kiss, stroking Gwen’s cheek and gazing into her eyes even more fervently than he normally does. Ianto remembers the look from the last time they did this and the times before that, and another déjà vu sensation grows in his chest: sympathy. He and Gwen forget these times, but Jack doesn’t. He can have Ianto any time, but Gwen is almost always off-limits, untouchable even though he’s touched every inch of her body. _‘No wonder he acts the way he does with her,’_ Ianto thinks, and goes to sit beside them.

“Why did you put your clothes back on?” Jack murmurs, the smile returning to his face. He looks both Gwen and Ianto up and down.

“Because we’re decent people,” Gwen responds, grinning back at him.

“Oh, you’re far better than ‘decent.’” Jack hands slips up Gwen’s back, beneath her shirt, and she arches with the movement of his hands. His eyes burn down her torso and she sucks in a breath.

Ianto watches it all, fascinated. He’s seen them do this before, of course, but those memories still have a gossamer layer of Retcon, like a cobweb draped over the details. This feels startlingly fresh, although it’s in no way new.

Ianto gets out of the way just in time as Jack twists to the side and deposits Gwen on the couch. She laughs and tugs him in, welcoming his groping hands and questing tongue. As he watches, Ianto begins taking off his own clothes; it’s warm enough in the main Hub, and it’s likely he won’t need them for long.

Again, the dislocation trips him up: a hot burst of jealousy as Gwen’s hand trails softly down Jack’s back and he murmurs into her neck. Ianto’s used to that feeling normally, but rarely when they’re actually together. When he remembers the three of them together, Ianto knows that Jack would never choose him or Gwen over the other, even if every stray glance toward her seems to spell disaster on a normal day.

He shakes the feeling aside, dropping his trousers to the floor. His pants are uncomfortably sticky, and his lip curls as he peels them off and drops them beside his dress trousers. He hears a giggle, but, disturbingly, he can’t tell whether it came from Gwen or Jack. They’re both watching him with amusement, and he frowns deeper at their ‘you’re so cute’ expressions.

Jack breaks it off before he actually gets annoyed. “Looks like you’re behind,” he teases Gwen. In a few shimmies, they remove her shirt. She never put her bra back on and Ianto kneels beside the couch to kiss her neck while Jack moves back to tug off her jeans.

“You left me something,” he says in a low voice. Gwen squirms and Ianto looks down her body to where Jack’s fingers are dancing over her underwear. He draws them slowly down her legs and then drops them carelessly on the floor. His eyes are dark and his chest moves with his breathing as he looks at them. Ianto is struck by an image of a king overlooking his court, proprietary and powerful.

Gwen doesn’t seem to feel the same way. “Get on with it, you lazy arse,” she says good-naturedly, nudging Jack with her foot. He growls and grabs her knees before he dips his head between her legs. She writhes slightly and makes a noise in her chest, and when Ianto looks up, her eyes are closed.

He sits back on his heels to take in the long expanse of Gwen’s creamy skin, her rich breasts and pleasing midsection. He always feels so young when he looks at her like this. Most of the time, the last woman he remembers holding is Lisa, and she was thin from salads and jogging. Gwen isn’t heavy, but she’s got more curves than Lisa had, and most of the time Ianto finds it less attractive. He writes it off to the culture, but during times like these, when he remembers Gwen’s body over his, feeling her hips dimple under his fingers, he realizes that, unconsciously, he hasn’t let go of his youthful, judgmental immaturity.

Gwen’s hips are currently being held down by Jack’s fingers. She’s having to put more effort into remaining still as Jack’s eyes are closed, entirely focused on doing what comes naturally: delivering pleasure to his partner. Ianto silently moves to the other side of the couch, and, with a warning hand on Jack’s hip, leans forward to deliver some pleasure of his own.

Jack yells, which sounds very strange considering where his mouth is, and nearly falls off the couch. Ianto’s hand on his hip slows him down enough to get a foot on the floor so he doesn’t go tumbling, but it’s not enough to save him the glare where Jack looks over his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Ianto says earnestly, but he only manages to hold off from smiling for a few seconds. Jack’s glare grows three times as heavy from Gwen’s own giggles, interspersed with pants, on his other side. “Really, sorry,” Ianto repeats, trying to straighten his face.

“Give me a warning next time,” Jack huffs, unable to properly get angry. He returns to what he was doing and Gwen’s giggles cut off into a moan.

Ianto kneels behind Jack on the couch and breathes hot air over his arsehole, strokes a finger lightly over it and traces gently until Jack twitches involuntarily. Then he starts tracing it with his tongue.

“Ianto, that _tickles,_ ” Jack says pointedly.

“Sorry, give me a minute.” Ianto points his tongue and presses it hard against the center of Jack’s pucker, sliding as far as he can into the unstretched ring of muscle. Jack moans approvingly and Gwen gasps in response.

“Better?” Ianto asks wittily. Gwen’s foot swings at and misses his face.

“Get on with it.”

“Yes ma’am,” Ianto replies, and gets on with it.

Even though he doesn’t like the taste, rimming Jack is something Ianto enjoys very much, primarily because it gets Jack hot like nothing else, but also for the knowledge that he can make such a powerful and self-contained man let down his guard and whimper. The power is heady, and as he presses and presses at Jack’s arsehole until he can feel it stretching and licks until his tongue is sore and Jack’s all wet, he’s basking in the sounds of Jack’s moans.

When he reaches between Jack’s legs to stroke his cock, Jack says “No, don’t,” in a strained voice, and Ianto sits back, satisfied. Jack’s forehead is rested on Gwen’s thigh, and she’s watching them both with a tender expression.

Jack sits up and lays himself over Gwen, reaching between her legs to rub at her clit. “Are you still on the pill?” Gwen nods and Jack guides himself inside her. They sigh in relief at the same time as Jack starts moving.

They’re neither of them going to last long, and Ianto waits until Gwen starts breathing staccato to stroke down Jack’s back and tease his arsehole with a finger. He slides it in to the knuckle and Jack moans in distress.

“Ianto, I can’t-”

“Yes you can,” Ianto growls, twisting his finger around until he can stroke at Jack’s prostate. Jack drops his head to bite at Gwen’s collarbone and she whimpers and rubs her clit even faster. Her eyes are huge, staring straight at the roof of the Hub and then she squeezes them tight and screams.

Ianto rubs over and over Jack’s prostate until the captain shouts his own release into the air, then withdraws, just teasing the rim. Eventually Jack moans and bats at his hand weakly, and Ianto desists. Leaving them laying there, he retrieves a few towels from the cupboard just off the Hub and returns with them.

Gwen’s still lying on her back with her eyes closed, enjoying the post-coital sensations, no doubt. Jack has sat up, and watches Ianto approach appraisingly. “You ready?” he asks, eyeing Ianto’s heavy erection.

Ianto gives him a polite smile along with the towel. “I’ll give you a moment to rest up, sir.”

Jack swats him with the towel. “Cheeky.”

Ianto sets the second cloth beside the couch for Gwen and lays the last flat on the floor. Then he kneels on it, back straight. Jack watches him, one hand on his cock as though he might try to wank to the image. Ianto glares.

Jack makes a face at him, and then stands up. Robed with nothing more than his bearing, he’s suddenly as commanding as if he were wearing his coat. Gwen seems to sense the change, and turns her head to watch as Jack slowly circles Ianto, who remains facing the couch. He brushes a hand over Ianto’s hair, slaps his arse and fondles a nipple. Ianto looks up at him and Jack sighs contentedly.

“This is just for us, Ianto,” he says quietly. Ianto’s lip twitches, and there’s a matching tease in Jack’s eyes.

It’s not just for them, not anymore. It started that way, back when Ianto was afraid that their one-night-stands with Gwen meant Jack was just using him, that he was just convenient. Jack claimed him to show that he wasn’t going to give him up, even though Ianto took the Retcon right afterward.

It changed when Jack left and came back, when Gwen made them let her stay and watch, when Ianto finally understood that it wasn’t about Jack or Gwen or even himself, but all of them. And tonight Gwen watches, eyes soft and loving, as Ianto kneels before Jack.

Jack steps back and Ianto’s breath starts to come faster in anticipation. He closes his eyes and waits, then starts at the first hot burst of liquid on his chest. His next breath brings with it the sharp scent of urine, of _Jack,_ and he trembles, because even after all this time, even though it doesn’t mean what it used to, somehow this is still just for them.

The stream of urine focuses on his left nipple and Ianto opens his eyes. Jack’s failing miserably at smothering a grin, but he moves when Ianto jerks his head. Ianto made the mistake once of sticking his tongue out playfully. He hadn’t done it since.

With a last few spurts, Jack finishes. He shakes off his cock and leans forward to kiss Ianto on the forehead. When he moves back, Gwen’s there, and she kisses him long and hard on the lips.

“You sure you don’t want-?”

“No, stop it,” she replies, chucking him on the chin. As walks with her towel toward the locker rooms, Ianto imagines her kneeling where he is right now, dripping with gold, the tangy scent marking her as his. He shivers and stands up, and when he does Jack meets his eyes and they’re both thinking the exact same thing. ‘She’ll never agree.’

Ianto shrugs.

Jack nods. “You going to shower?”

“You coming with me?”

Jack lifts his chin and stares up at the water tower. “I have to set the kettle.”

Ianto hesitates, then walks away.

[*]

When Ianto returns to the main Hub, dressed in the change of clothes he keeps in Jack’s bunker, his silver serving tray is weighed down by two cups of tea and one mug. The tray is on a small table Jack has harvested from somewhere, and Jack, clothed once again, is checking the teabags.

“Are those…”

Jack looks at him briefly and nods.

Sitting down on the couch, Ianto can’t help but watch Jack. It’s a long-time habit, and it has served him well in navigating the treacherous waters of Jack’s mind in the past. Tonight is different. Tonight… “You’re different.”

Jack doesn’t respond. It’s too normal, that. The part of Ianto that he always forgets expects a response, has demanded a response in the past. The man who has never kissed Gwen lets it go every time.

“When we’re here…” Ianto thinks out loud. “I can talk to you about anything.”

Jack looks injured. “Hey, I’m a great listener.”

Ianto rolls his eyes. “I’m being serious, Jack. You act differently when I don’t remember. When it’s just the two of us, you’re more closed-off.”

Apparently unable to find anything else to do with the tea, Jack sits on the couch. He moves slowly, like his joints are sore.

Ianto stares at his profile. “The person I am with you and Gwen… I’m different, too.”

Finally, Jack actually looks at him, and it’s that same stare as earlier with Gwen, as though Ianto is some rare event that he needs to commit to memory. Ianto is patient, and Jack’s jaw tightens before he speaks. “I’m waiting for the day you two…”

Ianto is silent, but Jack never finishes. Finally, Ianto meets his gaze squarely and sums up his courage. “I love you. And I love Gwen. And when I don’t love Gwen, I’d never be able to say that I love you. But right now, I’m confident enough to say it. And I know you love us back.”

Jack doesn’t move.

“But when I’ve taken the Retcon, I can’t tell. You treat me differently, I don’t know how you feel about me. I’m… lost.”

“Memories make you who you are,” Jack whispers, and stares up at the water tower again.

Ianto stop pushing and sits in silence. There must be some reason why Jack is so open and carefree when Gwen is with them, and sends such mixed signals when it’s just them. It can’t be only Gwen, Ianto decides, because back in the beginning, he acted the same way whether she was there or not. It was only once Jack left and came back that he began to open up to them more. He’d changed so much while he was with the Doctor, it was like he was a different person: he’d gone from someone who refused to let them in to someone who was willing to try. He’d changed…

Ianto looks up. “When I don’t remember, I’m a different person. Someone you can’t love.”

Jack takes a deep breath. He stares at the ceiling, but doesn’t look at Ianto, and doesn’t deny the statement.

“I’m a different person,” Ianto says again, thinking it out. “You can’t treat me like you do now because I’m not the same person. And I can’t become that person because you treat me… like someone you couldn’t love.”

Jack looks ashamed. “I don’t mean-”

“It’s not your fault. And it’s not my fault, or Gwen’s. But there’s nothing we can do about it when I don’t remember.”

Ianto takes Jack’s hand, and it clasps tightly, as though to keep him there. Jack’s breathing is heavy, as though he’s been running for a long time.

“I want to remember,” Ianto tells him.

“I do too.”

The tense moment breaks, and they both jump and look at Gwen. Her hair’s in a damp ponytail and she’s wearing a different pair of jeans and a Blues t-shirt. She looks very serious as she approaches and sits beside Ianto.

She takes a deep breath, bearing herself up, and speaks. “I slept with Owen last year because I- I felt like I was being pulled into Torchwood like a black hole, I needed something… Anyway, I don’t need that anymore.”

She looks uncomfortable. Ianto takes her hand, knowing how guilty she still feels about that affair. “But when I’m with the two of you,” she continues, looking up at them. “I feel like I really belong. This feels _right,_ ” she says passionately. “I love you,” she tells Ianto, squeezing his hand. “And I love you,” she tells Jack. “And I don’t want to lose that, not again.”

Jack looks unmoved, unmovable. “And Rhys?”

Gwen holds his gaze, then looks at her hand and Ianto’s, intertwined in her lap. After several long moments, she nods. “He’s what I need when I don’t remember. He’s not what I need right now.”

Jack crosses his arms. “And what will you do if you don’t take the Retcon? Will you divorce him, or will you cheat on him again?”

Gwen’s back straightens and ire buns in her eyes at the jab. “And what do you call this, if not cheating?”

Ianto leans forward so he’s blocking their line of sight- glare, more like. He moves his hand in Gwen’s and touches Jack’s leg, and after a few seconds they both back down just a bit, banking the fires. With the part of him that doesn’t remember mediating a hundred arguments, Ianto is amazed that he can quiet them so easily, and it convinces him that Gwen’s right. They do _belong_.

“I think we have something strong,” he says quietly. “Something worth keeping.”

There’s a moment, and then Gwen whispers, “I would give up Rhys.”

Jack stares at her. “And what about work? How would you react if you were in a relationship with Ianto and me and I told you no on Jonah Bevan?”

Her head snaps up again and she has a retort on her lips, before she pulls a strange face. “Okay.”

“This isn’t a negotiation,” Jack says confrontationally. “I won’t let you remember just because you give in on this.”

For some reason, Gwen looks embarrassed. “It’s not that… I trust you.” She smiles ironically. “Without remembering all our conversations, everything you’ve told me, us, I- I’m never sure why you keep things from us. But now, I know you better. If you say you have a good reason not to pursue this, I trust you.”

Jack looks at her for a moment, uncomprehending. “Is that all it takes? I’d have slept with you a year ago if I’d known that!”

Gwen’s startled into a laugh, and the borderline hostile body language relaxes. Ianto feels cautiously optimistic for the first time that he can remember since these one-night-stands started becoming serious.

Jack’s wearing a vulnerable, hopeful expression that Ianto has never seen before. “Are you two sure?” he asks, and he sounds like their captain giving them a warning.

Ianto looks at Gwen, and in her face he can see the best friend he never had, a person he can rely on completely, someone he would be less than without.

Gwen cups his cheek. “Yes,” she says, eyes sparkling.

“Yes,” Ianto says, and they both look at Jack.

Jack looks like he’s been given a gift so big he doesn’t know what to do with it. He’s trying not to look completely overwhelmed, but Gwen and Ianto know him and can see straight through it.

“Come here,” Gwen murmurs, standing, and Ianto pulls Jack to his feet and they’re hugging, pressed together, tight like they’ll never let go.

Ianto’s eye is caught by the silver tray of teacups. “I should get rid of that tea, if we’re not going to use it.”

Jack’s breath hitches and Gwen’s smile is brilliant, and when they finally separate, Ianto goes and pours the last of the tea down the drain.


End file.
